The Domino Effect
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Max and Pops work to enhance Christine's game playing skills and mathematical knowledge. As Booth and Brennan try to get to the bottom of Pelant's conspiracy, their worried preoccupation with work affects the family.
1. Chapter 1

The Domino Effect

In the wake of beyond-the-grave cyber revelations regarding a secret government conspiracy, Christopher Pelant continued to plague the F-B-Eye, as Christine enunciated it. Booth and Brennan, Angela and Hodgins were working at the Hodgins Mansion basement in an effort to unravel the clues the evil genius had hinted at. Hodgins' grandfather had built a bunker beneath his house during World War II and acquired his own Enigma machine to monitor governmental activities he perceived as questionable. Hodgins' father had added state of the art cyber security as it became available. Of course, now it seemed as much a fossil as the huge IBM mainframe dinosaurs which had once been the wonders of the computing world. Angela and Hodgins had updated the firewalls as technology became available, and 'beefed up' their security to a maximum in the months when Brennan was on the run. Now they were using the basement computer center again.

The two couples' investigative efforts took place outside of normal working hours. This meant that Christine was spending a lot of time with her grandfather Max. Never one to plop a child in front of the television for entertainment, he was enhancing her Jeffersonian pre-school education during their evenings together. She knew the alphabet and was learning her numbers as well. Max decided to make a game of helping her under the guise of a game. He introduced her to dominoes. Matching the number of spots on the various tiles was good practice for her, and lent itself to her understanding of rudimentary addition and subtraction.

The little girl had seen folks playing this game at his her Great Grand Pops' retirement center when she visited Pops with Booth and Brennan. Her mom had even played a domino match with Pops while Christine perched in her lap. So when Max brought out his domino set, she recognized it as Pop Pop's game right away.

"Oompa, you play dom-e-nose too?"

"Yes, Chrissy, who else plays this with you? Your mom?"

"No, Oompa, Pop Pop does, with Mommy."

As the weeks went by, Brennan's daughter and her dad engaged in many simple matches and Christine gained a basic understanding of the game.

When Booth drove up and brought Pops back to spend Thanksgiving with them, the little girl hugged him around the knees and ran to their family room game cabinet. She returned with a box of dominoes and plunked them in Pop's lap.

"Oompa taught me to play your and Mommy's game, Pop Pop. Will you play dom-e-nose with me?"

Puzzled, Pops looked over at Booth. "Shrimp, who's Oompa? Did you guys hire a Swedish nanny?"

Booth chuckled. "No, Pops, that's what she calls Max. He taught her to play dominoes, and she's actually getting pretty good at it. He's coming for dinner on Thursday, so you two can show her how it's really done, by the 'pros' if you want!"

Pops removed the box lid, and dumped the ivory spotted tiles on the coffee table. "Okay, Pumpkin, let's play some dominoes until dinnertime! Let's see whatcha got, kid."

When Brennan came home from the market, she looked in on her family. Booth was engrossed in a football game on tv. The coffee table was covered by a maze of black and white tiles, scrutinized by a gray head and a little blond one, as their owners leaned on their elbows over the table. She smiled and returned to unpacking her groceries.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Pops had gone to bed, while Max and Christine played one more round of Monopoly. After many game of dominoes, the pair had needed a change. He sat on the couch, while she knelt on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table. Their money was stacked along the edge of the board, and Christine was winning at the moment. Owning both Board Walk and Park Place always gave one an edge in Monopoly.

Hearing an engine accelerate, Christine jumped up and ran to the window. She was happy to see her dad's truck pull into the driveway. " Oompa, Daddy's home." Most other children would have opened the door to greet their father, but Christine had been taught from an early age to let her parents check it first for security.

The key turned in the lock, and Booth peered around the front door. "Where's my girl?" and opened his arms to pick up her up as Christine charged at him.

"Hey, Max, I see she's beating you again. Once she learned Kids' Monopoly, she got bored really quickly. She's like her mother, very steep learning curve!"

"Honey, can you go get Daddy a bottle of water from the fridge, please?"

"How's your search coming?" Max asked, once Christine left the room.

"Slow, annoyingly slow," Booth groaned in response. "Ange is finding some helpful information, but the encryption is so complex, each level takes longer to crack than the previous ones. Bones and I wanted to be sure one of us was home to tell Christine goodnight. We sure appreciate your staying over this week to help Pops watch her."

Christine returned carrying two bottles of Aqua Fina. "I thought Oompa might be thirsty too."

"Thank you, Munchkin, you're very thoughtful," Max told her.

"Alright, Monkey, it's time for bed. I'm glad you're in your jammies, so we can read your new Magic Tree House books. Go brush your teeth, and I'll be up in a minute," Booth said.

After cleaning her teeth, Christine spit out the minty foam, rinsed her brush and the sink, and ran to her room. She climbed in bed, and reached for her book. Her dad seemed pre-occupied, although she would have just told you he had something on his mind. Both her parents were worried about something. She knew they tried to conceal their work concerns from her, but she was a perceptive child who picked up on moods and feeling like her father did.

Booth appeared at the bedroom door, and settled his lanky frame alongside her on the bed. He read her two new Jack and Annie adventures, and one old one before placing the books on her bedside table. "Time for dreams, little girl," he told her. Christine carefully arranged her stuffed animals in a row on either side of her, so that the covers would meet all their 'chins' perfectly. Booth watched this nightly ritual with a smile on his face, knowing that this part of his child came from her organized analytical mother. Christine looked up at Booth as he leaned over to kiss her good night.

"Daddy, why are you and Mommy 'thinky' right now?"

Her father hid his surprise with a kiss on her forehead. "Honey, Mommy and I are working on a mystery, kinda like Jack and Annie do, or the Boxcar Children. It's complicated, like putting together one of Max's really big jigsaw puzzles. It's going to take us awhile to find all the pieces we need to solve it. Seems like your brain just keeps thinking about a problem like this, even when we're not at work. Nothing for you to worry about, Sweetie."

"Okay, Daddy, but if you need to get your mind off it, I can read to you anytime you want, or play a game."

"I appreciate that, Kiddo, and Mommy does too. Now, time for sleep, my princess. We both love you to the moon and back."

"Me too, Daddy."

He sat on the side of the bed and held her hand, as they said night prayers together, then stood up and kissed her again.

"Me too, Daddy."

"God bless, sleep tight, the angels guard you til the morning light."

Leaving her room, he made sure the door was partly ajar and sighed to himself.

Back downstairs, he told Max, "That child doesn't miss anything. She's realized Bones and I are preoccupied with this Pelant mess. She'd make a great spy herself, the way she picks up on things."

 _A/N: My children could tell in an instant when I was upset, no matter my efforts to hide my feelings. Kids are really amazing. I'm devoid of a convoluted plot at the moment, so this little story will just be, for now. If I don't get an inspiration, I'll mark it as complete._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 The Opinion in the Oldster

As Thanksgiving weekend drew to a close, Booth and Brennan convinced Pops to try living with them for a few months. The proceeds from Brennan's most recent book publication had cushioned their bank account nicely, and she gave a large donation to Willow River Retirement Center to hold his spot. She also started an endowment which insured that any resident who could no longer afford to pay their bills would not be turned out from the home. She had grown very fond of many of Pops' friends at the center. Amazed by Brennan's generosity, Hank agreed to stay with them 'awhile'.

One night the first week of December, the old man was restless. After tossing and turning at 3 am, he decided a glass of milk might help him sleep. Making his way to the kitchen, Pops noticed a hunched figure sitting on the couch in front of the silent, flickering television. Something worse than indigestion was keeping his grandson awake. Pops approached the couch, and placed a gnarled hand on Booth's shoulder. "Shrimp, what's eatin' at you?" he asked.

The question was met with a deep sigh. "Pops, I can't talk about the particulars, but we can't seem to catch a break in a difficult case, and I can't sleep. A lot of good people could be hurt if we can't track these bad guys. They're threatening innocent folks." Booth sighed again. _"One of them is you, Pops, but I can't reveal that,"_ he thought to himself. _"This conspiracy of Pelant's is the worst case I've ever handled."_

His grandfather moved slowly around the couch, leaning on his cane, and sat beside Booth. "Seeley, you know I was an MP and then a policeman. Even though Pittsburgh wasn't quite the Mafia town that Philly was, we had our share of gangsters and thugs. Early in my career, one of those losers tried to bribe me to leave their shady business alone. Hell, they bribed every patrolman in the precinct, and all the politicians too. They wanted the police to let 'em run their neighborhood rackets under our noses without interference. When the bribes didn't work, they tried some pretty nasty threats from characters like 'Crooked-Nose Joey' and 'One-Thumb Pete'. I took your Gram to the shooting range, and taught her to handle a gun, just in case. Margaret got pretty good with it too. I told her if anyone broke in, to let 'em have it. Those guys kept me awake more nights than I care to remember, but we kept working their cases, and eventually they got lazy, made a mistake, and Bingo! we caught them. You just gotta have faith and perseverance, Shrimp. You work with some genius people, Son. They'll find you the clues you need. You just keep diggin' and investigating, and you'll stop those shifty two-faced bastards, whoever they are."

"Pops!"

"Shrimp, you gotta call a spade a spade. I won't talk like that around Christine, don't worry. " his grandfather grinned. "Now go back to bed, kiss that gorgeous wife of yours, and get some sleep. A detective can't solve murders and such half-awake or napping at his desk."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 The Concern in the Contemplation

Dr. Camille Saroyan was breathing a bit easier these days. She was beyond delighted that Booth and Brennan had returned to their crime-fighting careers; though she hated the torturous way they'd been drawn back to Washington DC. Pulling her friends back from their respite in Kansas due to a horrific crime was hardly what she'd wished for, but their rejoining the FBI-Jeffersonian team was a great relief to the coroner. She despised Christopher Pelant for haunting them with his conspiracy obsessions from beyond the grave, but she worried that he might just be right, and that prospect terrified the normally calm doctor. It took a lot to rattle Camille Saroyan, but a threat to her team, friends, and unconventional family was painfully unsettling.

She knew, but pretended not to, that Hodgins' basement had become a hopefully-secure base of operations for investigating the conspiracy. Just as she had feigned a lack of involvement to insure the integrity of the fight to prove Brennan's innocence and allow her to return to DC after Max Keenan's acquittal, Cam's distancing herself now from the search for answers allowed the others more freely to explore the shady possibilities to which Pelant had alluded. She gave them what support she could, while acting oblivious to their quest.

Knowing Booth as long as she had, Cam knew how much he struggled and worried about insuring the safety of his team and family, how deeply he held himself responsible for their protection, how seriously he considered this possible conspiracy to be . She also knew how agonizing it was for him to question the sincerity of the government for which he had fought, killed, and suffered.

Cam was equally well aware of Brennan's concern for the safety and security of her colleagues, friends, and family. She knew they both worried about how this supposed plot would affect Booth's equilibrium. It would have been comforting to discuss the situation with Hodgins, Angela, and the dynamic duo, but Cam believed it was safer to remain silent. She knew they'd alert her when they needed her help. In the meantime, she had to act like a duck, calmly floating along on the pond's surface, while paddling furiously beneath the water.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 The Angst in the Artist

Angela Montegro-Hodgins was up to her eyeballs in the clandestine attempt to root out and unravel the ominous secret conspiracy with which Christopher Pelant's post-mortem clues had taunted them. Beyond her workday restorations of victims' faces from their barren skulls, she was working overtime to follow the shadowy hints her computer wizardry had uncovered amid the details of past FBI cases. Her husband was distraught with the possibility that his father and grandfather's 'paranoia' had been correct. Unable to assist with her IT investigations, he was re-testing any piece of evidence that might shed light on the plot suggested by Pelant's legacy of ravings.

Angela could escape her worries by concentrating on the complex data analysis she was conducting. Her ingenious programs sifted through mountains of bits and bytes to discern a trail which Booth and Aubrey could follow to the perpetrators. She had already gleaned several useful leads from the government files she hacked into without detection. Booth's cousin Jethro Gibbs had offered the considerable talents of Abbey Sciuto to augment Angela's efforts. Since Hank Booth's and Jackson Gibbs' reconciliation several years earlier, the DC NCIS agents and Booth's team had quietly worked together on several joint investigations with excellent success. Together the two women had unearthed some interesting anomalies and inconsistencies between official government statements and reality.

Angela detested this negative use of her perceptive skills, but knew it was critical to the safety of their colleagues and families; and beyond that, the country she cherished as much as Booth did. During a recent visit from her father, the grizzled Texas guitarist had scrutinized his cherished daughter through his dark glasses, taken a deep breath, pulled off his shades, and stared deep into her eyes. "Baby girl, I don't know what's troubling you and your scientist, but I know you've got the brain power to figure it out, so keep on keepin' on till you find the answers you need." His perceptive statement and tight embrace had comforted her more than she could say. She only hoped they'd resolve this conundrum soon. She couldn't stand the pressure much longer.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Hodgins

Angela had been spending every extra moment outside her usual work schedule trying to decipher the files Christopher Pelant had left behind. While she grudgingly admired the caliber of his encryption and security measures, and the elegant logic of the data she'd been able to read, she hated him for once again intruding upon their lives, interrupting the relief they'd all felt upon his death. None of them relished the demise of another person, but Pelant's obsessions had darkened life for the whole group. To have his strung out theories reappear had turned Angela's stomach. But much to her horror, the guy's rantings appeared to be accurate. Hodgins knew the work was bothering her, because her restlessness and mumblings had awakened him more than once in the last few weeks. Most of the time she was sound asleep. He would settle her back down, gently pulling her body into his, curling around her in a secure embrace. And then, he'd stare at the ceiling, worrying in the darkness about the safety of his wife and child and extended unorthodox family.

Angela had been stuck at her stand-alone computer all evening since dinner, while he put Michael to bed, pausing only once to tuck her child in for the night. He descended a few steps into the basement quietly, watching her from above, then returned to cleaning their kitchen. She rubbed her eyes, gritty from staring too long at the monitor screen. A dull headache seemed to be her constant companion these days. Mentally drained, she saved her findings to an encrypted flash drive, and shut down the laptop, and locked the small device in a safe. Trudging back upstairs, she walked into the kitchen and hugged her husband from behind as he placed the last plate in the dishwasher and started the machine.

"Do you think we will ever reach the end of this nightmare?" she asked in quiet frustration. Hodgins massaged her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Angie, you're doing it; bit by bit. As Cam said, this isn't a sprint, or a marathon even, but a tortured hike through a dark forest. All we can do is keep unraveling the puzzle, and giving Booth what clues we find."

"I'm sooo tired; I don't sleep well; how did Booth survive when Pelant made him break their engagement? I would have gone insane from that pressure, Hodgie."

"He's a strong man, Ang. I'm sick that this conspiracy killed my parents and I can't find out who's accountable. It kills me to think of my dad's state of mind back then. I wonder if my mother knew anything about what he suspected. I wish I could talk to him about all of it. I'm beginning to understand how Dr. B must have felt when she learned why her parents went into hiding. We would all be powerless to resolve this mess without you, Angela. Your mad computer skills are the key to finding the who's responsible."

Pulling her close, Hodgins kissed his wife. Suddenly he got a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hey, Angie; remember that 'spring cleaning' I mentioned to Jared when Heather Taffett kidnapped Booth?"

Puzzled, she looked at him, "Yeah?"

He grinned at her, "Well, you're the broom, Baby; and the vacuum, and the mop! You're gonna catch them, you will! Now let's get you to bed."

Later that night, with Angela sleeping beside him. Hodgins laid awake, thinking. He was usually the quiet one on their team, not the cheerleader. That was normally Booth's function; maintaining their morale. Or Cam's, who would reassure the group that their work was progressing, that their purposeful investigations would catch the killers and bring victims the justice they deserved.

 _Except not for his parents_ , Hodgins thought to himself ruefully. Their talents, dedication and knowledge had been two decades too late to save their lives from the bastards contriving this mess. His father had sensed something amiss, had gone searching, and gotten himself killed for his trouble. _And his son, me,_ Jack thought sadly, _was too young and unaware to help his dad_. The man might not have been the most demonstrative parent around, but his father had sought to protect his family, unearth the conspiracy, pull it into the light, and expose the guilty. And now it fell to his son to finish the job. His soil handling, insect analyzing son. The education his father had paid for, but scoffed at, would help solve the mysteries.

"We won't let you down, Dad. I promise, " Hodgins spoke to the silence in his head.


End file.
